


(Baby Won't You) Drive Slow

by jfw858



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Street Racing, a hint of angst?, a lil bit of a twist at the end, but he's also Mark™, dont u worry lol, just by a few years its no biggie, mark is mysterious, nahyuck bffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24786481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jfw858/pseuds/jfw858
Summary: When Na Jaemin is dragged to a midnight street race by his best friend, the last thing he expects is to be drawn to Mark Lee, with his shiny black McLaren and highly disputed past. Jaemin doesn’t usually have the patience to deal with flings that prove unpredictable, nor does he make a habit of falling in love.But for Mark, he makes an exception.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Na Jaemin
Comments: 32
Kudos: 151





	(Baby Won't You) Drive Slow

**Author's Note:**

> this website is suffering from a severe lack of 1. street racing aus and 2. markmin fics so fuck it i guess i’ll do it myself lol (although there’s barely any actual street racing in this so maybe im a poser)
> 
> inspired, of course, by Mark’s ridiculously attractive jopping teasers and title from the song Drive Slow by Carly Paige :)
> 
> google searches for this fic included: how do street races start, what happens if you get caught street racing, best street racing cars, and are mclarens two seaters?
> 
> hope you enjoy!

It’s nearly one in the morning and Jaemin is standing dangerously close to the edge of the highway, unsure of how, exactly, he ended up here.

A row of shining cars are lined up across the four lanes in front of him, with no regard to any traffic that may be coming from either direction. Although, according to Donghyuck, “everyone knows not to come down the highway at this hour.”

Speaking of Donghyuck, the boy is practically vibrating, excitement rolling off of him in waves. Jaemin nudges him in the shoulder. “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing here, Hyuck.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Okay, you still haven’t told me when the hell you got into street racing, then.”

“ _Now_ we’re talking. You know that cute guy in my econ class I told you about? The one with the pretty smile?”

Halfway through Donghyuck’s description of how he meant to flirt with said classmate but unintentionally ended up befriending him, subsequently discovering that he street raced in his free time, three sharp whistles blow. Donghyuck cuts himself off immediately, grabbing Jaemin’s wrist and tugging him towards the front. “Come on, it’s starting!”

Jaemin rolls his eyes good naturedly but follows Donghyuck into the rapidly forming crowd nonetheless. Three cars remained on the street, only the farthest lane still empty. Their drivers were nowhere to be seen, presumably inside waiting for the race to begin.

“Cute econ boy? His name’s Yangyang, by the way. That’s his car, the silver mustang over there,” Jaemin barely registers Donghyuck’s words. He nods anyway, eyes drawn to the car just now rolling into the last lane.

“Is that a McLaren? Aren’t those like, crazy expensive?”

Donghyuck shrugged. “I think that’s Mark Lee’s car.” 

“Is it even fair, letting someone race with such a nice car?”

Facing him, Donghyuck grins wickedly. “Trust me, the car’s only a part of it. You could have the most decked out, luxurious car in the world and it still wouldn’t count for shit if you can’t drive it.”

Then he hears the roar of four cars starting, drivers revving their engines in preparation. Donghyuck’s face turns forward so quickly Jaemin is surprised his neck doesn’t snap, the crowd’s cheering grows even louder, and he barely registers a woman lowering her arms before the cars leap forward.

It’s only a few seconds before they disappear from view. Still, the crowd leans forward, straining to hear the faintest noises. After a few minutes, Jaemin raises his eyebrows.

“So that was it?”

Donghyuck, who has a hand cupped to his ear, shushes him. “Just wait. They’ll be back soon—it’s a short loop. The ending is the best part.”

As if he’s summoned them, Jaemin hears the crowd let out a collective gasp as the racers approach the finish line. He stands on his tiptoes, peering anxiously forward with the rest of them. 

First to appear is the black McLaren from earlier. Yangyang’s mustang is close behind, followed by two unfamiliar cars Jaemin isn’t sure he can name. Even he can tell the race is good as won, and moments later Mark crosses the finish a full second before the others.

When he steps out of the car, Jaemin freezes. 

Oh shit. He was hot. 

All he’s wearing is a plain black tee shirt paired with black jeans and a pair of scuffed vans, but maybe it’s the slightly cocky grin on his features or his obvious indifference to the various men and women trying to draw his attention: either way, Jaemin finds himself wondering what it’d be like to be underneath him. 

He turns to Donghyuck. “I thought you said it didn’t matter if he had the nicest car,” he declares almost accusingly. 

“I didn’t say that, I only said the _car_ doesn’t matter if you’re bad at driving. And Mark Lee is definitely not that.”

“Why do you keep saying his full name like that?”

“Because nobody knows anything about him. He shows up late, races, wins, pockets his prize money, and just disappears. He’s a fucking enigma.” 

“Is it bad that I find that kinda hot?” 

“ _Jaemin_.”

“What?” Jaemin throws his hands up in surrender. “It’s your fault for dragging me out here!”

Donghyuck laughs before leveling Jaemin a serious expression. “I mean it, Jaemin. He’s trouble. He used to race in this beat-up Honda Civic and then one day he just showed up one night with a brand new McLaren. People say he’s caught up in some sketchy shit. Like, crime rings and drug trafficking and all that. Who knows if Mark Lee is even his real name?”

“...Did he still win?”

“What?”

“When he was driving the shitty Honda, did he still win races?”

“Yes, but that’s not—” Donghyuck stops talking at the look on Jaemin’s face. “You want to meet him, don’t you.”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to laugh. “I promise I won’t get too attached. Although I’m sure he’s not involved in half of those things you ladies love to gossip about,” he teases when Donghyuck doesn’t laugh back. 

“Who’re you calling ladies?” A voice shouts from behind them. For a moment Jaemin is worried he’s actually offended one of the drivers, but then the smiling face of a boy that couldn’t be any older than he is moves forward, and Jaemin relaxes.

“Yangyang!” Donghyuck exclaims, stepping forward and clasping the racer in a brief hug. “You did so well today!”

“Not well enough to beat Lee, unfortunately, that secretive bastard.” Despite the bitterness of the words, Yangyang’s tone is nothing but cheerful. 

“Ugh, don’t start. I bring Jaemin to one race and he already wants to jump the guy’s bones. You kind of know him, right? Knock some sense into my friend for me, please.”

Yangyang looks at Jaemin for the first time, smile brighter than the gleaming headlights of spectators heading home. “Nah, he puts up a front, but I’ve talked to him a few times and he seems harmless. But then again, I don’t think anyone here really knows him all that well, so I could be wrong.”

Donghyuck shoves his side, scowling playfully. “You were supposed to back me up!” 

Yangyang just laughs. “Come on Donghyuck, you know me better than that. When have I ever tried to stop someone from making reckless decisions?” He considers Jaemin again, taking in his fading pink hair and worn sneakers. “You really want to meet him?”

Jaemin nods, perhaps a little too quickly. “Yeah, do you think you could introduce me?”

“Why not?” Yangyang shrugs. With a flash of teeth he adds, “If anything, it’ll piss Donghyuck off. Follow me—he’s probably with his car.”

Yangyang weaves effortlessly through the crowd, people parting to let him through once they recognize him as a racer.

But to Jaemin’s disappointment, Donghyuck’s satisfaction, and Yangyang’s mild indifference, the black McLaren is nowhere to be found, driver gone with it. 

“Sorry, man,” Yangyang apologizes. “Kinda figures, though. Win or lose, Mark’s always the first one out of here.” 

* * *

Jaemin finds himself at another race not too much later, eyes scanning the flashy cars that, frankly, all looked the same to him.

Donghyuck, despite his insistence that Jaemin stay out of trouble tonight, had abandoned him upon their arrival, no doubt off to accompany Yangyang in some chaotic scheme. 

Miraculously, he shows up again just as the race is about to begin, almost at the exact same time that a black McLaren rolls into its place by the start. 

Tonight, the race follows a different course, or so Donghyuck helpfully informs him once Jaemin wonders aloud why it’s taking so long. Tonight, the first car he sees is not Mark Lee’s McLaren, but Yangyang’s mustang as they speed toward the finish line: a nondescript tree tagged with a neon green smiley face. Mark weaves left and right, clearly looking for a way to pass him up at the last second, but Yangyang cuts him off with practiced precision.

Mark is clearly annoyed at the race’s results when they emerge from their cars. Still, he cuts through the swarm of people around Yangyang to congratulate him before claiming he needs to adjust some kind of car thing and striding off. 

Jaemin watches him walk away in earnest, not bothering to hide his interest, even under Donghyuck’s withering stare. “I’m going after him,” he declares.

Donghyuck laughs. “And then what? You’re gonna proposition the one guy that might actually be dangerous around here?”

“Don’t be silly.” Jaemin can’t hide his grin. “Obviously I’ll introduce myself first.”

“He’s gonna be in a pissy mood,” Yangyang warns, but Jaemin just waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” he promises. “Congrats again, Yangyang! Get shitfaced for me, okay?” Already back to searching for Mark’s dark hair in the crowd, he misses the way Donghyuck and Yangyang share a glance, twin expressions of mirth reflected on their faces.

Jaemin walks up to where Mark is aggressively shoving various mechanical tools into a backpack, back turned to him.

“Hey,” he calls. 

Mark turns, eyebrow raising in confusion. “Hi,” he replies gruffly, swinging the backpack onto one shoulder.

Maybe Jaemin finds the normalcy of Mark sporting a plain black jansport backpack endearing, but that’s neither here nor there.

Mark’s face is flushed, and Jaemin knows he’s just frustrated with himself for losing the race, but he can’t help the words that slip from his mouth next. 

“Wow, I haven’t even started flirting and you’re already blushing? I must be even better at this than I thought.”

Mark’s eyes widen, the movement making both his eyebrows lift, and Jaemin fully expects him to tell him to fuck off, but after a split second he laughs, the flush deepening further on his defined cheekbones.

_Cute._

Once Mark stops giggling and fixes him with an expectant look, Jaemin grins. “So,” he starts, “Just to clarify, Mark is your real name, right? Because a guy hears a lot of different things around here.”

“Yes, Mark is my real name.” Mark laughs again, a fuller one this time that involves throwing his head back and leaning on his car for support. “What’s yours?”

“Jaemin.”

“Well, Jaemin, why are you so curious about me?”

 _Now or never._ “I guess it’s because I prefer to know the name of the guy who’s about to offer to take me out for a drink.” It’s a shot in the dark, but Jaemin likes taking chances. 

Mark smiles. Slow, confident. Like he already knows he has Jaemin wrapped around his pretty finger. Which, Jaemin admits, he just might. “And how do you know I’m that guy?”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to smile. _I can see it in the darkening of your eyes,_ he wants to say. But he plays coy instead, matches question for question: “Well, are you?”

There’s a pause as Mark’s smile switches from flirtatious to genuine, and _oh_. Jaemin wouldn’t mind waking up to that smile for the rest of his life. 

“How about milkshakes instead?”

* * *

“You know, this was not at all what I was expecting when I went up to you earlier, but I’m not complaining,” Jaemin notes as he takes a sip of his strawberry milkshake a half hour later.

Mark grins knowingly. “No? Which part?”

“Aside from the fact that you actually talked to me? I honestly can’t believe you gave me a ride in your car. Don’t all you racers treat your cars like your babies?”

“You’d be surprised,” Mark answers, tone surprisingly serious. “With the way they drive and act, I’d never trust most of them with an actual child.”

It’s sweet—how seriously he takes Jaemin’s teasing. Mark is sweet. 

Too bad _sweet_ isn’t exactly what Jaemin is looking for at the moment. Shoving his thoughts aside, he changes the subject. “So, what do you do?” Jaemin asks. “Or, better yet, what’s your dream job?”

At this, Mark’s eyes lit up. “I’m a mechanic, but I’ve always wanted to design cars, not fix them.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

“I was close. I majored in mechanical engineering and was about to get my masters in automotive engineering, but then my—” Mark seems to stop himself, and there is a brief pause before he finishes his sentence. “But then I had to drop out.”

 _Had_ to drop out. Jaemin is so, so curious, but he doesn’t want to risk Mark closing off. Inexplicably, he wants to get to know him. Court him, even: this boy he’s only known for about an hour, this boy who is believed to be caught up in all sorts of shady activity.

He chooses to reach out for Mark’s vanilla milkshake with grabby hands instead, wanting a taste.

Mark laughs and cocks his head to the side, feigning confusion. “What do you want? Use your words, baby.”

Jaemin’s brain short circuits. In less than a second it rewires itself: any thoughts of long walks on the beach holding Mark’s hand fly out the window and are replaced with the sound of Mark calling him “baby” on repeat. 

Mark practically sees the gears shifting in Jaemin’s head and has to resist the urge to laugh again.

“Can I have a sip?” Jaemin props his elbow on the table; rests his chin in his hand. Bats his eyelashes. “Please?”

Wordlessly, Mark slides the tall glass across the table.

Jaemin lowers his lips to the straw and takes a long, slow, sip, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He takes care to leave a little at the corner of his lip when he’s finished.

Ever so slowly, he wipes it up with a finger and licks it off. “So, a question about your car...It’s a two seater, right?” he begins, licking his lips and sitting back against the booth. Mark, eyes fixed pointedly on Jaemin’s mouth, simply hums. “Well, hypothetically, do you think there’s still enough room for two people to make out in the front seat?”

Right on cue, Mark looks up. In record time, he pulls a generous tip out of his wallet and drops it on the table. Standing up and reaching for Jaemin’s hand, a corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “I guess we’re about to find out, _baby_.”

* * *

Mark’s presence quickly becomes familiar to Jaemin, whether it’s the sight of him stepping out of his McLaren at the end of a race or the sight of his disheveled hair from another midnight joyride with the windows rolled down. 

Or the sight of his hair disheveled for _other_ reasons.

However, he had yet to invite Jaemin over to his apartment, which meant that Jaemin’s stubbornness ensured he did the same. Now that he thought about it, the only place they really frequented was Mark’s McLaren. Which gave things an exciting air of rebellion and fueled his exhibitionist side all too well, but sometimes Jaemin just wished he could fall asleep in Mark’s arms.

Other times he wished he could see Mark in the daytime at all. But he never seemed to be free until well after dark, so after the first few times, Jaemin stopped asking.

It surprised him, actually, that he hadn’t gotten bored by now. Or lost his patience.

Because Jaemin was usually the first to leave whenever things got complicated. Many a past partner had accused him of having commitment issues, but Jaemin was convinced that his lack of inclination towards long-term relationships was entirely based on preference, not fear. 

He’s picky, that’s all. And he’s still young: it’s not like he needs to be settling down with a white picket fence and kids anytime soon. 

Which is why he can’t figure out what he’s still doing with Mark. With anyone else, the odd hours of availability would have driven him away within the week. And if it wasn’t that, Mark’s secrecy and flimsy excuses for canceling plans definitely would’ve done it. 

But for some reason Jaemin is becoming less and less interested in the fooling around aspect of their relationship and growing more interested in simply being with him.

Tonight though, all Jaemin wants is to enjoy his date without having to think about the implications. Sure, it’s one in the morning and he’s pretty sure they’ll end up driving to the same viewpoint they always do, but he gets to see Mark, and somehow that’s more than enough.

He hears Mark before he sees him, his car’s loud engine no doubt disturbing Jaemin’s more elderly neighbors. Mark lets him lean inside the open window to steal a kiss, then laughs at Jaemin’s pout when he pulls away to open the passenger side door.

“So, where are we off to?”

Mark grins at him. “Somewhere different, as long as you’re up for breaking a few trespassing laws.”

“Are you forgetting where we met?”

“Fair,” Mark chuckles as he puts the car in drive, “But trespassing is far less alluring than street racing, no?” Jaemin meets Mark’s eyes over the center console to find him sporting an infuriating smirk. 

He can’t hide the flush that turns the tips of his ears the same shade of pink as his hair. 

Mark’s carefree demeanor never changes, even when they arrive at their destination: the decidedly closed entrance to some park off a winding highway leading into the mountains. 

“I think it’s closed,” Jaemin notes dryly. “The sign says it’s only open from sunrise to sunset.”

“This is where the trespassing part comes in,” Mark reminds him, putting the car in park in front of the locked gate. Getting out of the car, he pops the hood of the car open to procure a small picnic basket and a woven blanket.

“Surprise!” he exclaims in a whisper. “I hope you’re hungry, because I brought snacks. We’re having a midnight picnic.” Mark hops over the fence and holds out his hand to help Jaemin over with a dramatic bow. Jaemin beams at him, taking his extended hand. 

They break out into laughter upon the realization that Jaemin can’t really hop the fence with one hand, but keep their hands locked anyway as Jaemin struggles.

When they’ve made it over in one piece, Jaemin pulls out his phone to use as a flashlight and gestures forward with his head. “Lead the way, darling.”

* * *

Less than ten minutes later they’re situated in a small clearing encircled by trees, Jaemin’s head in Mark’s lap as he spins strands of Jaemin’s hair around his fingers like cotton candy. The moon and stars cast their silver glow on the pair, although their eyes have long since adjusted to the dark. 

Jaemin sighs contentedly, mind wandering back to the first time he saw Mark and was chasing nothing more than a quick hookup. 

The thought makes him smile. How completely things have changed. 

“Hey,” Mark murmurs gently, lightly flicking his forehead. “What’s going on up there?”

“Nothing. Just happy I met you. Do you remember the night we first met?”

“Of course. I try so hard to make myself unapproachable so no one will bother me, and it’s always worked—until you showed up out of nowhere and practically forced me to ask you out.”

“I did not _force_ you to ask me out,” Jaemin laughs, smacking his arm in protest. “I suggested it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mark relents. He tries feeding Jaemin a grape, maybe only so he’ll stop whining, but they’re freshly washed and water drips onto Jaemin’s nose. His nose scrunches up at the sudden coldness, which has Mark giggling and leaning down to kiss the droplet off.

“All better?” He teases, popping a grape into his own mouth. 

Jaemin sits up, taking in the feast spread out in front of them: pretzels, cheese and crackers, apple slices with peanut butter, kettle corn, and, of course, grapes. “I feel like a kid at snack time again,” he jokes.

Mark chuckles, but it comes out sounding slightly stiff. Jaemin glances at him, pulling Mark’s head into his lap for his turn at having his hair played with. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Mark answers softly. Jaemin bites his lip to keep from sighing out loud. Mark must notice, because he catches Jaemin’s eye and something in his expression seems to shift.

“I guess my childhood was just a lot different from yours,” he explains. “I grew up in the foster care system.” He takes a deep breath, seeming to gear himself up to say more. Jaemin doesn’t dare speak. 

“I never knew anything about my biological family until some lawyer showed up on my doorstep last year, saying that my brother had died and left me a car. According to the letter that came with it, he’d been keeping an eye on me the whole time. His parents—our parents, I guess—had no idea what he was doing. But he knew I raced; knew a whole lot more about me, too. Apparently they were rich enough to afford nice cars and private investigators and all that.”

So that was a mystery solved, then. The car was a ‘gift.’ Jaemin’s heart aches for Mark, and how he must have felt at being handed such a blatant and shitty consolation prize. His heart aches for how very wrong everyone else is about him.

“But he said that they gave me up for adoption because his, um, because our parents are founders of this huge company, allegedly, and they decided after I was born that they only wanted one kid. So that there wouldn’t be any question as to who would take over the company or who would get the inheritance, or something like that.”

“That’s a shitty fucking reason,” Jaemin blurts out, unable to stop himself. He snaps his mouth shut immediately after, worried he might have upset Mark, but still too angry on Mark’s behalf to apologize for insulting his parents.

Mark just shrugs. “Yeah, but I kind of feel like that part was made up to make me feel better or something.” Jaemin scoffs, and Mark shoots him a wry glance. “You know, to give me a reason to be angry with them instead of sad. I don’t know, the whole letter was written like...like my brother actually cared about me. He seemed genuinely distraught that he couldn’t introduce himself in person.” Mark seemed miles away, eyes focused on some distant star. 

“What was his name?”

“Taeyong. Lee Taeyong.”

Jaemin hums in acknowledgement, reaching for where Mark’s hands are folded atop his stomach. “Thank you for telling me,” he begins quietly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

At this, Mark’s eyes focus on Jaemin again. “It’s okay, I’m happy with what I have now.” Mark smiles warmly at him. “I wanna hear about your family, though, will you tell me about them?”

And so, willing away the warmth spreading like fire from his heart, Jaemin begins to weave tales of trips to his grandmother’s house in the summer, huge sandcastles built on the beach, and sneaking into his parents’ room to sleep between them during thunderstorms.

Mark’s phone buzzes with a text that he ignores.

Then it buzzes three more times in quick succession. With a sheepish glance, he finally checks it. Jaemin knows without even asking that the night is over when Mark’s eyes widen in alarm.

“Is everything okay?” He wonders after Mark apologetically tells him he has to head back already. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. There’s just an issue at home.” Mark is already packing up, tossing all their snacks haphazardly into the picnic basket. 

Jaemin waits in the hope that Mark will elaborate, but it’s no surprise when he doesn’t. 

He supposes there’s only so much explanation that can happen in one night. 

* * *

It’s a big race, this one. Jaemin breathes hot air into his cupped hands and rubs them together, shivering slightly. Fall is rapidly approaching, and soon the snow will begin to fall and midnight races like these will be few and far between. Everyone’s feeling the pressure, Jaemin included. 

He wonders what the end of the racing season means for him and Mark, considering he still hasn’t opened up about whatever big thing he’s obviously hiding.

Jaemin had caved and invited him to his place soon after he told Jaemin about his biological family, thinking things might be starting to change. But although they’ve been spending more and more of their time there, Mark never stays for long. On the rare occasion that he agrees to spend the night, he’s gone by the time Jaemin wakes up in the morning. 

It’s getting harder and harder for Jaemin to pretend that it doesn’t sting every time it happens.

But there’s no time for worrying about that: not now, when Mark’s race is starting soon and he’s coming over for a good luck kiss. 

“Wish me luck,” he murmurs as he draws away. 

“You don’t need it,” Jaemin reassures. “You’re the best racer here,” he adds, smacking him lightly on the butt and blowing him a kiss as he walks toward the start line. Mark rolls his eyes but pretends to catch it anyway, pressing Jaemin’s air kiss to his lips with a small smile.

“Now that’s something I never thought I’d see,” someone comments from beside him. Jaemin turns to see Donghyuck standing next to him, eyebrows raised. “Mark Lee, being flirted with and actually looking _happy_ about it?”

“Donghyuck!” Jaemin exclaims. “What are you doing here? Yangyang’s not racing tonight, is he? There’s some newbie racing instead, I heard.”

“No, but I figured I’d find you here.” They watch the start of the race in a comfortable silence, but once the cars have disappeared from view, Donghyuck looks up at him with a pout. Jaemin feels guilt coiling in the pit of his stomach, realizing immediately how much he’d been neglecting his best friend. “I miss you, Nana. We never go out like we used to.”

“I know,” Jaemin admits, “I’m sorry. I know it’s no excuse, but I’ve been hanging out with Mark a lot lately.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I get it. I’m glad, actually, as long as you’re happy.” In a rare moment of seriousness, Donghyuck looks up at Jaemin and asks, “Does he make you happy, Jaemin? Even when you’re not around him?”

Jaemin shuts his mouth, thinking hard about the answer. The answer is yes, of course, but it’s the second part of Donghyuck’s question that gets to him. He wonders how Donghyuck managed so effortlessly to put words to the mess of insecurities tormenting Jaemin for weeks.

Truth be told, unless they’re together, Jaemin’s thoughts of Mark are filled with anxiety and doubt. He has no idea where their relationship is going or what will become of them when racing no longer ties them together.

“I don’t know,” he admits. 

“Oh, Jaemin,” Donghyuck sighs, “This is not how I hoped you finally falling in love would go.”

“Falling in love?” Jaemin sputters. “Who said anything about love?”

Donghyuck never gets the chance to explain, though, because already the race is nearly finished. They’re a little farther from the finish line than usual, but they have a perfect view of the drivers’ desperate grab for first place.

Mark comes into view first, two cars right on his tail. One of them, a midnight blue Toyota Supra Jaemin knows Mark has griped about losing to before, just barely gets ahead with a deafening roar of its engine. The other, an unfamiliar cherry red Subaru Impreza, pulls forward to take the Supra’s place, getting alarmingly close to sideswiping the black McLaren.

Mark slams on the brakes immediately, falling back to avoid getting hit by the other car, who quickly catches up to the Supra in first place. Around him, Jaemin hears the discontent of spectators calling him foolish for throwing the race, but Jaemin can only focus on the cherry red car, who even he can tell is driving far too close to the Supra. 

“—ark’s an idiot,” Someone grumbles, and it’s the last thing Jaemin hears before everything spins out of control. 

The red Subaru veers closer to the car in first place, but this time he’s not lucky enough to escape a collision. One car’s front wheel catches the back wheel of the other and suddenly the Supra is swerving as its driver desperately tries to regain control.

It’s the Subaru’s turn to slam on the brakes as the audience watches the blue Supra hit the guardrail with a horrifying crunch. Jaemin can just barely make out the dark figure of the driver slumped over the steering wheel as smoke begins to billow up from the car’s hood. 

Mark easily avoids the accident and stops his car a safe distance away, just barely over the finish line. He’s leaping out of his car and running over to the scene of the accident in the next instant. With the help of the last racer, they pull the crumpled door open and lift the unconscious driver out. Several audience members run up as well, claiming to have medical experience or simply wanting to help.

After confirming that the injured man is being looked after by others, Mark turns his attention to the owner of the Subaru—the cause of the crash. He’d been standing, frozen, a distance away, evidently too scared to get any closer to the accident. 

The driver looks terrified, and for good reason: Jaemin has never seen Mark this livid. His gaze is cold, but his eyes flash with barely controlled fury. Jaemin glances down and sees that Mark’s fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles are beginning to turn white.

Finally breaking out of whatever trance he was in, Jaemin begins to rush forward onto the street when he remembers Donghyuck is standing right next to him. “I’ll call you soon,” he promises. “I just need to make sure Mark’s okay.”

Donghyuck wraps his arms around him for a tight hug. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

With a nod and a grim smile, Jaemin waits until he loses the sight of Donghyuck wading past the people trying to get a closer look at the accident before he runs over to Mark’s side.

“Are you insane?” Mark isn’t shouting, but the crowd is so silent everyone can hear the way he hurls his words like knives at the young racer. “You could have killed someone. And then what? Do you want cops crawling over this place? You want to spend the night in jail, have this on your record?” The driver blinks rapidly and shakes his head slightly, not daring to speak. 

“If you wanna go down in flames doing some reckless shit, do that on your own time, but keep everyone else out of it. A piece of advice: life isn’t a fucking Fast and Furious movie. The people here have lives, _families_ . And we’re not— _I’m_ not, going down with you.”

He’s walking away in the next second, not letting the driver get a single word in. Jaemin goes after him, intercepting him in front of his car. It’s shockingly similar to the first night they met. 

“Where are you going?” Jaemin calls. 

“I need to get home.” Mark’s anger has already dissipated, agitation taking its place. 

“Not like that, you’re not.” Mark looks at him questioningly, and Jaemin folds him into his arms. “You can’t drive like this, you’re still shaking from all that adrenaline. It’s not safe.”

He feels Mark’s sigh as he leans into Jaemin’s touch. “Okay, you’re right. Five more minutes.” But he can’t seem to stay still, feet tapping against the concrete and fingers drumming unknown rhythms where he holds tight to Jaemin’s waist.

His whole body thrums with energy, and it isn’t until his fingers brush against the sensitive lines of Jaemin’s rib cage that the idea occurs to him. He grins, a little wickedly, up at Mark. “I have an idea. Why don’t we put all that misplaced adrenaline to good use, hmm?”

“What do you mean?” It isn’t until Jaemin snakes his hands down Mark’s back to tuck them into his back pockets teasingly that realization dawns in the other boy’s eyes.

“I don’t know, Jaemin,” Mark responds warily as Jaemin pushes him gently into the driver’s seat and clambers in after him.

“You just need a good distraction,” Jaemin murmurs, straddling Mark and kissing slowly up the side of his neck. “Trust me.”

Mark nods, hands coming to rest on Jaemin’s sides and eyes slipping shut. He gives in to Jaemin: the warmth of his skin, the press of lips against his. Jaemin grins in satisfaction, nipping at Mark’s skin where he can feel his pulse. But Mark’s compliance doesn’t last long.

“No, Jaemin, I really...I really should go,” Mark mumbles, drawing away once more. Jaemin’s waist burns where Mark was holding him, and he is hit with the sudden, irrational urge to cry. 

He’s tired: of not knowing what is so desperately important at home, of getting shut down for trying to be a caring boyfriend, of not knowing whether he’s Mark’s boyfriend at all.

The click of the seat belt snaps Jaemin back into consciousness. “Okay, then,” he says curtly, leaning back and getting out of the car without another word. He shuts the car door behind him, ignoring the sting of Mark calling out his name pleadingly.

It doesn’t take long until Jaemin remembers that Mark is his ride home and he doesn’t have the faintest idea where he’s walking to, but he refuses to slow down or look back. He blinks furiously, knowing he can no longer blame the sharp breeze for the tears that well up in his eyes. 

Maybe it’d be best to end things with Mark now, before he hurts himself even more than he already has. 

But then there’s a warm hand on his wrist and he turns only to be met with Mark’s wide, slightly desperate eyes. He sounds breathless when he asks, “Come home with me?”

Donghyuck was right. Jaemin never should have let himself get attached.

* * *

Mark is clearly nervous, with the way he keeps moving one hand from the wheel to drum his fingers on his own thigh before reaching for Jaemin’s thigh only to quickly retract his hand and place it back on the wheel before it ever touches Jaemin’s leg.

It’s making Jaemin equally nervous. He’s no stranger to being in Mark’s car, and he’s no stranger to Mark, but the tension is so thick he nearly chokes every time he opens his mouth to say something.

Ten minutes into the car ride, Mark breaks his cycle of fidgeting to run his hands through his hair, sighing. “I’m sorry about tonight,” he apologizes, and Jaemin glances over at him, surprised.

“Sorry for what?” He questions softly. 

“For being so closed off, and for pushing you away. I know you meant well, and I do appreciate you trying to distract me, even if it doesn’t seem like it. It’s not that I didn’t want to be with you, I was just reminded of how much I have to lose if anything ever happens at one of these races, you know?” Having said all that in one breath, Mark pauses before continuing quietly. “What happened tonight...it scared me.”

“Mark,” Jaemin starts, “Of course I understand why you’d be scared. We both know street racing is illegal for a reason. Tonight proved that. But, other than that...I don’t know.” Jaemin searches his face for some sort of sign or hint, but he doesn’t know what to look for. “What is it that you have to lose?” he whispers.

Mark’s grip visibly tightens on the wheel. Jaemin is beginning to panic, thinking he might have pushed too far, when Mark pulls into the parking lot of a dimly lit apartment complex and parks. He gives Jaemin a shaky smile that does nothing to quell his nerves.

“You’re about to find out, I suppose.”

Mark leads Jaemin up a few flights of stairs before coming to a stop in front of apartment 3F. A young woman opens the door before Mark can unlock it, leaning against the doorframe. “I thought I heard your car. You’re home already?” She’s beautiful, and Jaemin doesn’t know whether or not he should be jealous until she smiles and adds, “She woke up and refused to sleep again, so I left her with a coloring book in the living room.”

Jaemin doesn’t know what to make of it. Mark never mentioned living with anyone.

Mark smiles warmly at her and reaches into his pocket, but the woman smacks his arm away with a playful glare. “Don’t even think about it, Mark Lee. You were gone for barely an hour, I don’t want your money.”

“But, Seulgi—”

“Help me carry my groceries up next time so I don’t have to make two trips and we’ll call it even,” Seulgi laughs, shooting Jaemin a wink. “It’s about time you brought your boyfriend home anyway. It’s nice to meet you by the way, Jaemin.”

 _She knows my name? Wait, boyfriend?_ Before Jaemin can respond, she moves past them and disappears with a soft click inside the apartment next door. Mark’s blush is evident, and he grumbles a halfhearted, “Thanks a lot, Seulgi,” under his breath that Jaemin pretends not to hear.

Mark takes a deep breath as he steps inside the doorway, glancing inward as if to prepare himself for whatever, or whoever, is waiting inside. When Jaemin doesn’t move to follow him, he lets out a nervous laugh. “Well, are you coming?”

Jaemin blinks and steps over the threshold.

The first thing he notices? The place is disorganized. Not in a dirty way, but clothes and what look like children’s toys are strewn everywhere. Jaemin takes his shoes off and moves into what must be the living room. 

The second thing he notices? A little girl, two dark braids on either side of her chubby cheeks, sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by too many colorful markers to count. 

She looks up, and all at once Jaemin is staring into Mark’s eyes. 

He inhales sharply as all the little details of Mark’s strange behavior fall into place. Why he showed up late to every race, why he was always desperate to get home, why he shut down everyone who tried to get close to him, why he raced at all when unlike nearly everybody else, he didn’t seem to give a damn about the glory that came from being the city’s most renowned street racer. Why all he seemed to care about was the prize money. 

Mark’s daughter runs toward them with a shout of “Daddy, you’re back!” and somewhere between the sight of a familiar looking smile and the sound of unfiltered joy, Jaemin falls in love. 

Mark catches her with ease, lifting her above his head and swinging her around before setting her down with a laugh. “Hi, sweetie, I missed you so much.” Jaemin doesn’t think he’s ever sounded so fond. 

“I have someone I want you to meet, okay?” Mark grabs his hand and gently pulls him forward. “This is Jaemin.”

“You can call me Nana, if you want,” Jaemin waves with a smile. From the corner of his eye Mark shoots him a puzzled, slightly amused glance, and Jaemin shrugs. 

“Hi, Nana,” the girl greets, taking in Jaemin’s appearance. “I’m Ellie. I like your hair. Pink is my favorite color!” Ellie points at her coloring book, where Jaemin sees that she’s colored all the flowers in the cartoon garden various shades of pink.

He crouches down next to her and picks up the book, holding it right up to his nose and squinting closely at it from every angle. “This,” he declares theatrically, “is amazing. The work of a true artist.” He smiles crookedly at her, and she giggles. Suddenly shy, she hides behind Mark, who crouches down so they’re eye-to-eye. 

“Seulgi told me you wouldn’t go back to bed. You know you can’t do this every time,” he scolds, not sounding particularly upset. “You’d better brush your teeth right away, or I won’t read to you before bed.” Ellie gasps and immediately scampers off down the hallway. 

“There’s a reason I wait for you to sleep before I leave,” he calls after her. All he gets in return is the sound of running water. Mark shakes his head and stands, clearing his throat. “She’s why I had to drop out of grad school.”

Jaemin faces Mark, brow creasing at the apprehension written so evidently across his features, as though Mark is waiting for the other shoe to drop, preparing for Jaemin to bolt out the door.

Mark continues hesitantly. “I know you didn’t ask, and you’ve never pried, and I appreciate that—I just wanted you to know. Raising a kid costs a lot more than I ever thought. I want to be able to give her everything she could ever want, and the added cost of tuition wasn’t helping. I wish I didn’t have to race, either, but being a mechanic only pays so much, you know?”

He sighs heavily, and Jaemin notices, perhaps for the first time, the tiredness lining his features. He wonders when the last time Mark got a full night of sleep was. Jaemin wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to explain himself, show him that he _understands_ , but he can’t find the words. He settles for nodding silently, meeting Mark’s eyes and just hoping that he realizes that Jaemin has no intention of leaving.

* * *

Later, when Ellie has fallen asleep after being lovingly tucked into bed and read to, Mark and Jaemin stand in the kitchen. Jaemin nurses his cup of coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter. Mark had asked if he wanted anything, looking so tense Jaemin was worried he might combust if he wasn’t given something to do with his hands.

Now, he wrings them nervously. “Remember, in the car just now, when I said the race tonight reminded me of how much I had to lose? I wasn’t just talking about Ellie. I was talking about you, too.”

He takes a deep breath. “At first I told myself I wasn’t telling you about her because I couldn’t trust you yet. But then I realized that I was just scared. Scared that you’d see me differently, scared that you’d run away. I mean, I’m a single father raising a four-year old on my own, and I haven’t been with anybody in such a long time. Not that I’m complaining, because I love Ellie with all my heart, but then you came into the picture and I...I just didn’t want things between us to end.”

He looks up at Jaemin, eyes filled with unreadable emotion. A little bit of uncertainty, a little bit of pleading. A whole lot of vulnerability. “You probably have a lot of questions. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I really am. And it would hurt, but I understand if this is too much or you need time to think about it or you’re not interested anymore—”

Jaemin cuts him off, setting his cup down and moving forward to cup Mark’s face gently between his hands. “Thanks for the offer, but I won’t need any time to think about it. I’d be a real fool to walk away from all of this.” His thumbs brush over Mark’s cheekbones softly, and there is endless tenderness in the way he murmurs, “Ellie’s amazing. You’re amazing. I can’t wait to be a part of this side of your life.” 

Mark’s eyes are shining as he whispers, “God, come here,” and surges forward to pull Jaemin into a long kiss. 

“Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I chose to leave?” Jaemin exhales breathlessly when they part. “Didn’t you hear Seulgi? I _am_ your boyfriend, aren’t I?” 

Mark simply kisses him again with a light laugh and a shake of his head. “Yes, you are.”

Jaemin wakes up the next morning to a plate of mildly burnt pink pancakes shoved underneath his nose. “I knew it!” Ellie exclaims. “Daddy said you were still asleep and to let you rest, but he also says he’s a good chef, so I didn’t believe him. Look, I brought breakfast!”

She grins, revealing two rows of tiny teeth, and then Mark’s affectionately exasperated laugh sounds as he appears behind her, and _oh_ , how Jaemin hopes he can wake up to these smiles for the rest of his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> so this was supposed to be very cliche and just about mysterious street racer! mark but then i had to go and give him a daughter and make it unbelievably soft (yes he absolutely does spoil her there’s no way he can resist her big eyes)
> 
> the reason Mark had to leave on their date was because Seulgi texted and said that Ellie woke up feeling sick and Seulgi thought she might have a fever, so Mark got really worried. Oh also the whole midnight picnic thing was Seulgi’s idea bc Mark is simply not that romantic (and we love him more for it)
> 
> your kudos and comments keep me going, so please let me know what you think below or talk to me on [ twitter](%E2%80%9Dtwitter.com/urlocalnctzen%E2%80%9D)! 
> 
> -K


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